


Bat-Family Prompt Book

by HarcourtHolmesII



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Individual warnings per chapter, Multi, Please Don't Copy This To Another Site, prompt list
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2020-11-26 13:16:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarcourtHolmesII/pseuds/HarcourtHolmesII
Summary: This is a book for all my Bat-Family related prompts, and any stories you may suggest. Rules are first chapter, if you are interested. Feed my desire to write Jay/Dick, please. Feed my depravity.





	1. Rules

Hello.

Prompt me. Feed me prompts. Give me ideas to write.

My rules are I don’t do any explicit underage stuff – it can be implied, it can be stated, it can be referenced, but I don’t like it and won’t give detail.

I don’t do explicit sexual gore; I do sexual, I do gore, but I don’t strive to have those two worlds meet.

If you’re unsure about a prompt, still send it to me, and I’ll tell you yay or nay.

I don’t have a set schedule for this, real life is a thing unfortunately, but I will get them out as soon as I can.

I will make an effort to get to as many prompts as I can.

Each prompt will have the appropriate warnings at the start of the chapter.

I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally like Jay/Dick, so it’s likely I’ll say yes.

This is for Batclan, yes, but … Jay/Dick … please? Please, feed the fuel of my little shipping heart, encourage my depravity!

Sincerely

Harcourt Holmes II


	2. Nightmare Fuel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares suck. They drag you into a world that feels so real, so true, that you don't even know how to escape until you're almost swallowed whole. They both have nightmares, have had them since long before they became the little bird at the side of the bat. And when they have them, they go to each other. Maybe it's a phone call, maybe they're in the room down the hall, maybe they're with the League in the depths of space, with nothing but recorded messages assuring the clan that they still live.
> 
> But they get as close as they can after nightmares, because they chase each other's nightmares away.
> 
> Jay/Dick.
> 
> (Prompt by Oky_Verlo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jay/Dick (M/M)
> 
> Warnings:  
Mention of Death  
Explosion  
Rape Implication and Attempt  
Nightmares'  
Threats of Violence  
Lots of Swearing (AKA Jason's Potty Mouth)  
Evil Cereal Bowls

The first nightmare that Jason had ever experienced within the manor’s walls had been the first night he stayed there, in a room too large and unfamiliar to him. He had awoken in a cold sweat, soaking his bedsheets through and with his throat parched. He wasn’t sure if he had screamed or not, but the presence of tears rolling like rivers down his cheeks confirmed his worries. He never cried when he was afraid… He only cried when it hurt, and his throat did hurt.

The duvet was heavy and pushing it off was a struggle with his still shaking limbs, but he managed, standing on unstable feet. The trek to the door of his room seemed far too long of a journey; his old bedroom was a closet with a mattress pressed to the opposite wall from the door, but the handle to the door was always within reach. Here, it seemed to be ages for him to reach the handle and twist it, allowing him free reign into the unfamiliar corridors of the mansion.

The rug was laid out for him, a guide in the darkness, preventing him from stumbling into the many end tables and ottomans that lined the walls. The many framed portraits appeared to glare down at him as he wandered the halls; Jason felt a heavy weight on his shoulders, as if one of those suited strangers had climbed down from their perch and had begun to follow him on his aimless mission. He had to mentally yell at himself that he wasn’t paranoid; it was all okay. But the empty spaces of the hall, how dark it was just ten feet in front of him and ten feet behind, scared him, a void where he did not know where he was treading. He could hit a dead end, or run into another figure roaming the corridors, and if they were an unwanted guest, Jason wasn’t sure how far his warning might reach, before he was silenced; snuffed out like a fragile candle flame.

He was, however, stopped. There was no physical hand, no wall to prevent his travels, but a sliver of golden light that burned bright in the dark of the hallway. A door was cracked open, just slightly, and from this angle, Jason couldn’t see anything or anyone inside, but he could hear the sound of movement. Barely. There was the sound of running water. He had no doubt someone was there, and he wasn’t sure what to think. He didn’t want to snoop, but he didn’t want to return to his room. He wasn’t about to run screaming through the halls, but he didn’t want to be silent and be a surprise to whichever of the manor’s residents was inside.

He had no choice in the matter, for the door opened, revealing a slender figure. In the too bright light, warped and framed by the sharp shadows that surrounded them, the character seemed too tall in the door frame, with fingers too long as they wrapped around the brass handle. He couldn’t see their face, but he could see that head turn, and felt something pierce through him where he stood. He took a step back. He had no idea how he must look to the other, and from here, he didn’t immediately recognise them.

That voice however, erased the hellish imagery from Jason’s mind; the light returned to be a soft golden halo around the man that approached him, kneeling down in front of him.

“Jason?” The other wasn’t too much bigger than him, but Jason appreciated the gesture of him kneeling down. “What are you doing up?”

“I had a nightmare…” It was pitiful. He hated how he sounded just so babyish; he could imagine how he must’ve looked the part of a lost toddler, looking for his mama in the dark. The figure before him smiled, however, and Jason felt a kind hand on his shoulder, warm and still just slightly damp from using the bathroom sink.

“Really? Can’t imagine one like you to be scared of much.” Dick’s voice was a little teasing, but the joke felt like the other had managed to chase away the creatures in the dark. Jason relaxed, and watched as the other stood back to full height. “How about we head back to your room? If you want, you can tell me about it.” Jason wasn’t going to. He refused to. His dream was silly and stupid. His nightmare did not need to be mentioned to Dick just so the other could laugh in his face.

Dick Grayson, the Robin to Bruce Wayne’s Batman, went out every night and fought criminals. He was shot at, stabbed, beaten and bruised and yet he came home smiling and delighted to have caught the criminals that plagued the streets. He pulled off being the brightest superhero imaginable, dressed like a traffic light, and yet roaming Gotham’s dark streets. He stood out and suffered the blows that Batman would shrug off. He caught the murderers, the drug dealers and the abusers, and they would catch him, drag him to a hidden location to torture and ransom him. And yet, he came home smiling.

The two of them returned to Jason’s room, and with Dick, the evils that looked over Jason’s shoulder and tried to drag him beneath the floor instead drew back, away from Robin’s glow. The light in the bedroom, once Dick switched it on, illuminated how kind and warm the space was, with bright reds and white cushions half Jason’s size. Dick led the way, and held the covers back for him, so Jason might slip under and be tucked safely away. He didn’t need this, but Dick’s kind words and gentle smile encouraged him to do so, and he was tucked within a cocoon of blankets, Dick taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

“Now, Jason… What did you dream about?” Jason shook his head, crossing his arms. No. He wasn’t about to say. He didn’t want Dick to know how silly his little dreams were. Dick just waited, but when Jason proved to be immovable, he shuffled closer, leaning forward and cupping his lips.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Could Dick Grayson tell Jason Todd a secret? Jason never spilled a word about anything to anyone. He wouldn’t, even if he was tortured for it. And how could he not say ‘yes’? The other was going to tell him something no one else knew about. It was too delightful a thought and so he nodded his head in response.

“I had a nightmare tonight, and it was one of the scariest things I have ever seen.” Robin had nightmares? Despite everything he went through, he was still scared? “I had a dream that I was in the desert, and my cereal bowl grew teeth.” Jason never knew he could snort, he had never done it before. Laughter was rare but this was something impossible for Jason. He could feel the tears returning to his eyes as he began laughing, loud and hard, his lungs hurt from being unable to breathe. Dick looked almost offended.

“It’s true! It grew teeth and the spoon was its tongue! It tried to bite my face off!” Jason’s laughter did not falter, and he knew it wasn’t true. It was all a joke, of course, but it was just so unexpected. He could see Dick’s face break into a large grin and he could hear the delightful noise that was Dick’s laughter, joining his own.

It died down slowly, but Jason felt his chest unburdened, and his body filled with a warmth that even the blankets couldn’t provide. He felt safe like this, in Dick’s presence. The other leaned forward, grabbing Jason’s unused cell phone off the bedside drawers, and with a few quick button presses, he pressed a gentle finger to Jason’s lips and offered him a reassuring smile before removing his finger.

“Whenever you’re scared, Jason- Whenever you’re alone, just play this message. It is my personal message to you, alright? Our little secret.” He talked calmly, warmly into the phone, watching Jason with those wide, sapphire eyes. “You are safe, and you have the Bat and the Robin watching over you. If you are ever afraid, I am there to listen. If you feel like you are alone, just remember, you and I are together under the same sky and stars. I- We… Bruce, Alfred and I will never let you be taken. We will never let you get hurt. We are not ever going to lose you because we’ll be right there with you. Remember that. And even if you feel like you’re forgetting that, even if you feel this is not the case, just play this message. I’m here.”

The message beeped in time to end, and Jason felt the teenager, rest it into his hand, and press his fingers over the cool plastic of the phone. Dick leaned forward to tussle his hair, before standing and moving to the door.

“You never have to tell me what is bothering you, Jason. You never have to do anything you don’t want to. But if you can’t bring yourself to tell me, but you need someone there, just listen to that message. My mother left me a similar one, not long before…” Jason knew what had happened there. Bruce had informed him of it before he met Dick for the first time, and Dick did not seem to appreciate it, but Jason never brought it up. He never thought he was allowed to. That was something sacred.

“We’re here for you Jason, whenever you need us.”

~X~

“Please tell the big man I said… Hello.”

Was that before or after the steel door had closed behind him? Jason’s mind was all over, he couldn’t concentrate. That was what Bruce was yelling at him to do, whenever they got home from patrol with one less criminal to interrogate. Concentrate! But how could he do that when he was certain blood was seeping into and flooding his skull? Was that something blood could do? He shook his head and could almost feel his mind swimming, and a sudden stab of pain shot through his skull. Okay… No sudden movements.

He opened his eyes… One of his eyes? He wasn’t sure if his left was opening. He wanted to touch it, just gently, and see if he could feel his lids parted or not. Maybe he was half blind… No! Concentrate! Don’t panic… He needed to…

He looked about the room, taking in his surroundings. Okay. So, he was still in the warehouse. That was good. He hadn’t been moved. That meant he had better chance of being found. It was cold in here… Too cold. The small windows three (or was it four?) metres up were dark, but not from paint or blinds. The outside was dark. That meant it was still in the evening. That meant Bruce was active and not sitting behind a desk, relying on those incompetent and corrupt assholes from the GCPD to find Jason. Those pricks couldn’t find a snowflake in winter.

There was an iron taste in his mouth, and his thoughts turned to the words spoken to him earlier. A collapsed lung is what that twisted fuck had diagnosed. Jason knew not to trust the Joker, but he was pretty certain that, at least, was truthful. Okay… Concentrate. What could he feel?

He tried moving his legs. They were heavy, and every movement from them was like fire, piercing through muscle and bone. His femur… could it have been shattered? No… Joker hadn’t given his legs that much attention. A slightly cracked femur, maybe, and probably a broken ankle. His hands were still cuffed, but he had been careless. He had been with Batman when he had been taken. He hadn’t thought he would have been abducted then, not with Joker running in fear and Bruce close behind.

He looked to the door. It was shut, keeping the dangerous winds from whipping through the warehouse and flaying at Jason’s sensitive skin. The cold floor, as it was, already stung and caused his skin to stick to the stone. Even through the frayed suit, he felt himself stuck, unable to move, and not just due to his injuries.

He had to move, get to the door and get out. If he could get outside, he could maybe make a signal of some description, or at least get a view of the nearest town. If he was in a warehouse, he had to be close to a town or settlement of some sort; of that much, he was sure. Jason had to roll his legs between his arms, allowing for his hands not to be twisted behind his back. In this way, he was able to force himself to his unsteady feet and had begun to traverse the empty space between his place on the floor and the steel door.

It was a long and perilous journey, slow and unstable, filled with tumbles and falls that did little for Jason’s health. The closer he got to the door, the more he could hear the howl of winds outside, battering wildly against the walls of the warehouse. There was a storm. What kind, he did not know and did not care. If he could get out, he was better than in this hellhole.

The handle jiggled, teasing him. It was rusted, easy to break, but Jason just didn’t have the strength. Trying to twist the stupid handle just caused a burn in his hand from the chill. He resigned himself to wait, sitting with his back braced against the steel; patient. Bruce would be here. He would be here very soon. He always was. Last minute rescues were not exactly uncommon. He sat there for the longest time, willing away the loud pounding of liquids in his brain and the uncomfortable, erratic beating of his heart.

Beep.

What was that? His eyes shot open, Jason peering through the crates, scanning for something, anything. A radio, perhaps? He wished he had his phone. The one Bruce had given him had been left behind at the manor in his and Bruce’s dash to the cave.

Beep.

There it was again! He looked about, the dark of the warehouse creeping closer as his eyes, tired and half-blind, had begun to fail him. There. He spotted it, at last. There was a small, rectangular, black box across the room, closer to where he had been. There was a glow of red as the little screen was lit with digital numbers, like that of an alarm clock. Except…

They were counting down.

Beep.

Fuck… No. It couldn’t be... No! Concentrate! Don’t panic! Bruce would be here. Any second now he would hear the bat-mobile tearing its way towards the warehouse, and the heavy thud of footsteps and the click of lock picks, opening the door for him to escape. There would be strong arms around his frail form, and he would complain to Bruce when they returned home about how he didn’t need to be carried.

Beep.

The numbers continued their countdown, and with every little pip, his hope faltered. Bruce wouldn’t make it to him. Bruce wouldn’t be there. Was Bruce even trying? He couldn’t concentrate.

Beep.

Dick had lied to him.

~X~

He didn’t like those fingers in his hair. He wanted to yell and scream, pull them away and tear them off those offending hands. Instead, he laid there, silent and helpless. Not helpless. He had the strength. He had the power to remove them from his head, but he didn’t have the control. He didn’t know this person. This person with the strange accent and the cold voice. Her nails were long, too long as they raked through his newly bleached white fringe.

“Do you hear me, little bird?” He did and he did not wish to. Shut that stupid mouth and leave him be. He could feel the burn in his veins and from how her fingers tightened in his hair, he was almost certain she did too. She was scared. She was good at not showing it, smug bitch. He wanted to growl, but all the noise that came out was that stupid groan of his. It was akin to a zombie or Frankenstein’s noise; garbled, frail and inhuman.

“I know you hear me. I know you must feel a little… touch-starved. That’s alright, little bird. I’ll be sure to look after you. After all, my Beloved must have his son returned to him in only the best condition.” He didn’t care for who this ‘Beloved’ was and he did not care for her lingering touches and, apparently, comforting words. She leaned down to him, his head rested in her lap, and removed her fingers from his locks at last.

Instead, they rested over his shoulders, newly rejuvenated and powerful from growth. He tried to snarl and bite at her, but Jason only received a gentle kiss upon his brow. He wanted to spit into that deceitful face. He hated everything about this! She was too hot against him, the cut of her shirt too low, and as she removed herself from him, he could see how it accentuated her body. She left his head, returning it to the relieving cool of the pillow, and had moved away across the room, towards where the doors were shut tight.

Jason knew there were others there, still and staring forward as their mistress demanded they leave her to her privacy. He could hear her whisper something in that exotic language of hers, having opened the door just a crack, back to Jason. He could hear a rustle of movement and the near silent padding of feet as they left the room far behind them. He bared his teeth, trying to move at all, trying to lift his hands or his head, just get someone’s attention or fight her off.

Instead, his acid green eyes remained still and watching, his body locked in position as she turned. He watched those deft, olive hands of hers reaching up to a thin zipper on the front of her suit, and the sound of it undoing and lowering down her form, revealing it to him as Jason began mentally screaming at her. Not again! He needed to get out of here. Let him go!

“Hush now, little bird. I’m just scratching an itch that we both desire to be rid of.” She had returned to his bedside, and felt that evil, lurking hand of hers stray close to his groin, where the crotch of his pants was pulled tight across his hips. He didn’t even realise how his body had reacted. He… He did not want this! He felt tears in his eyes, and how they pooled at the corners, but not rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t want her to see that. He did not want this bitch to see how she had affected him so.

His eyes darted up and away from her body as she had begun to shed her clothes, the black peeling away like a second skin. She really was a snake, the way she stared, wanting to swallow him whole. The thought made him shudder. Shuddering! That was good… At least, he thought it was. If he could shudder, that meant he could move! He did not have a lot of time.

His eyes were turned to the ceiling, so the only indication of her movements were how her knees settled to either side of his hips, causing the mattress to dip ever so slightly. He could feel how her hot fingers delved beneath his shirt, resting over his newly reformed body. How she felt the grooves of his abs beneath her palms and lightly scratched her nails, testing his body’s responses. He quivered beneath her hands, and whilst he could not see that smile, he could feel it. A victorious leer as she hooked her fingers in the loops of his trousers, and gently tugged them away.

His eyes threatened to relinquish his tears, but he continued to blink them back as he had always done. She halted in her trespass, and again, Jason felt her fingers rise up to his cheeks, thumbs gently sweeping away at the skin just beneath the lids of his eyes. She angled his face downwards, and despite his defiance, the sting of her nails piercing his skin caused his stare to return to her form, the green of his irises flaring; agitated and scared.

“Don’t cry, little bird. You’re safe with me. And all you have to do to repay my kindness, is lay there and be quiet.” She leaned forward, and Jason felt her lips, hot and heavy against his own. They were gentle at first, as if to comfort, but when he desperately put his effort into refusing the intrusion, Jason felt her push. She became forceful, her hand on his cheek moving behind his heavy head to pull harshly at his hair. He groaned into the kiss, and he could feel her smile against his lips. Her body against his helped to fuel the fire pooling in his crotch, and how he pressed painfully against the restricting cloth of his underwear.

He couldn’t do this! Not again! He managed, with great difficulty, to open his mouth, just enough to flit his tongue through and between his teeth. It pressed gently to her lips, with how his mouth had opened in such a lazy manner, and he could feel her stiffen in surprise, but open her mouth to receive him. Her tugging hands became less aggressive, but she towered over him, pressing Jason into the bed as she kissed him.

With great difficulty, Jason eased his jaws together, and felt the sting of his teeth against the muscle of his tongue. He just wanted this to be done with. He couldn’t put up with this any longer! The sting grew to a piercing ache, and then something far worse. He groaned into the lock of lips, and felt the rush of hot, iron liquid spew into his mouth and into his throat. He continued to press his teeth together through the muscle, hoping he might hear the click of them meeting at last when he felt those harsh lips pull away.

The evil woman had pulled back, her mouth stained a dark red, eyes widened in shock as she stared down at him. Jason’s tears had started to fall, the pain becoming too much for him to handle. She rushed from the bed, dressing herself quickly, to keep up appearances no doubt, and ran to the door, calling for assistance. She moved into the adjoining bathroom, and Jason heard a rush of water as she cleared the evidence of her transgression. As steps hurriedly made their way down the hall, she quickly returned to his side, tugging his pants back into place, the shock gone, instead, to a look of anger. He could see how those eyes glared down at him, threatening him to talk if he could. Jason could feel himself shrink back into the pillows as guards entered the room. She commanded something of them in that strange tongue of hers, and Jason felt several of them sweep to his bedside, with towels, needles and other medical necessities. Jason could feel the blood flooding the back of his throat, and tried not to cough it up. He did not dare to. He had been like this for several months already and he could not stand the humiliation any further. Yet, he could feel the pierce of a needle in his skin and the rush of something foreign enter into his veins.

Across the room, as his vision had begun to warp, he saw that familiar figure of the woman, addressing a man cloaked in green. His eyes, burning like Jason’s own, glanced between the two, and there was the sound of a sharp slap filling the air. Jason could almost smile if he wasn’t beginning to drift away. He could feel them turn his head to the side, forcing his mouth open to release the contents onto the bed. He could feel the hot liquid run free, staining the side of his face, a wet cloth pressed to his forehead, relieving him of some of the heat that he had suffered through all these months.

As he could feel himself beginning to fade away, he could hear their voices, just barely through the panic. Despite their use of a different tongue, Jason could hear a few words he had since grown familiar with.

‘Beloved.’

‘Child.’

‘The Bat.’

~X~

He was up in an instant, somersaulting across the floor, dodging the bullets of those thugs that had dared to aim their guns at him. Rivulets of sweat tracked their way down from his temples and brow, causing his fringe to cling to his face. There was a roar in his voice as he had raised himself up from his seat, and now that roar had begun to pain him. His throat was burning from the cry that had escaped, and his chest heaved, attempting to pull in all the oxygen it could, filling his lungs to the point of bursting.

His eyes scanned the room, expecting to see those mask covered faces staring down at him. The pistols in his hands were a comforting weight, but there were no masks staring down at him now. There were no white gloved hands, no toothy grins and no guns pointed in his direction. Just an empty room.

He could still hear the cackle in his ear; for good measure, he checked his flanks, expecting there to be another little black box, lit up with angry red numbers. Instead, he saw a wall filled with television screens, each depicting a street edge, corner or alley, revealing the dirty dealings that went on in the shadows. He must have fallen asleep again. He couldn’t keep this up. Not with how close he was! He couldn’t afford any mistakes!

Black Mask was so close to cracking! So close to turning to Arkham with his tail between his legs, desperate to pay whatever that monster demanded so that the Red Hood may be removed. Too bad for him, that was just what he wanted.

Jason stood from his position on the floor, rewinding the footage in his apartment back, looking through the static imagery since his chin fell into his chest, feet up on the desk, fast asleep and vulnerable. He caught nothing. There was no motion in his apartment. The window never opened and the knob of his door never twisted. He could not believe he had been so careless! Since his return to Gotham, he had made a routine so that he may not be discovered by anyone, including the Bat himself.

There was an acidic burn in his veins, and Jason could feel himself growl lowly in his chest. How desperately he wished for Black Mask to just hurry up and get the Joker out of Arkham! Before, when Jason had been Robin, the sidekick to Batman’s career, he had been desperate to put the fuck away forever. Yes, the Joker, like many murderers, rapists and abusers, did not deserve to live, but he followed Batman’s rule. Now though… To think, he was fighting to _release_ the clown prince of crime from Arkham, so that he might put a bullet in his brain.

Jason’s thoughts lingered on how he had met the Bat earlier that day, when he was in the process of stealing away a helicopter full of weapons and ammunition. Better off the streets and away from deranged criminals, sitting in his hands whilst he plotted away on how he might execute those that got in his way. Batman, however, did not think so. He knew that his old mentor would never let the helicopter damage any member of the public in the city streets below, and he knew that by some miracle the moron would pull it off. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the appearance of his predecessor, Dick Grayson.

The Bat’s Golden Boy was flying solo, and yet, by some command of the Bat, obviously twisted with charismatic words and fine lies, had come to aid the other with the appearance of the Red Hood. Jason had never been more furious. He tried his best to play it off, but this was between him, Bruce and the Joker. Dick Grayson never had to be involved and it sickened him. The other should be safe, away in Bludhaven and nowhere near the power struggle that was occurring between the two of them.

Jason’s thoughts turned to how the other would think. He knew Bruce had worked it out by now; his presence at the fight between Jason and the Hand of Four was proof of that. But had he told Dick? That was something Jason doubted. He wanted Dick to be unaware; he didn’t want the other to be dragged into this, but the thoughts lingered, about how the other might disobey Bruce’s orders and come to him instead. Seek him out through Gotham’s streets and come upon him at last, determined to find and return Jason to the warmth of the manor.

This would never be the case, and Jason was certain of that. At the end of all of this, one thing was sure: either Bruce, Jason or the Joker would have their skulls filled with lead, and Jason hoped that it was the Joker. The actual criminal. The one that sought to kill and wreak havoc in Jason’s home. Jason may have stolen guns and made deals with the drug lords, but he had worked out long ago that whilst crime couldn’t be permanently stopped, it could be controlled. It would not be easy to do, but it could be done. It just required him to get rid of the competition. Remove the masked criminals that could go against him. It wouldn’t be easy, and with the crime lords that worked so freely, a power vacuum would near tear Gotham apart before Jason could repair it. But it was worth it. If he could take the heat of being the only crime lord, the only boss that controlled the scum that roamed the streets, he would take it. He would be hated for all the good he was doing, but he did not care. He was doing what Batman would never do!

Well… That wasn’t the complete truth. He did care. He cared about how one person would think. He could recall how, a couple of weeks after Bruce had adopted him, and how he had been quickly integrated into the role of Robin, Dick had left the manor far behind him. How he had sought the other out, feeling better than ever about how Bruce had given him the position of Robin with the intent to train him. Jason had run straight to Dick’s room and knocked hurriedly on the door, dressed head to toe in the Robin gear. When the door opened, the face, which had been at first welcoming, had turned to shock at Jason’s appearance. Jason hadn’t noticed.

“Surprise! Look Dick! I’m Robin now! Bruce gave it to me! I get to start training with you from tomorrow!” Jason’s excitement gave way to verbal diarrhea as he held up the cape for Dick to see, beaming a grin so wide his cheeks had begun to hurt. He almost didn’t notice how Dick’s face had morphed from shock to anger and then to hurt. Jason’s grin faltered, as he watched Dick give him a reassuring smile, trying to hide away his feelings behind a frail mask.

“That’s great, Jay. Um… I’m sorry. Can you give me a minute?” Dick moved past him, and whilst he did not shove Jason out of the way, the younger boy had stumbled, confusion and fear broiling up in his guts. Had he done something wrong?

He would find out a few days later that, yes, he had done something wrong. He had come into Dick’s life, unannounced and unwanted, and had done something that the Golden Boy himself had never managed, even now. He had been adopted by Bruce, and without any previous skill, just by great determination, had earned a title rightfully belonging to Dick.

He had woken up that morning to the sound of a motorcycle engine, and the smell of gasoline and burning rubber. He had opened the door, to see Dick’s bedroom open for the world to see, and uncomfortably bare. He had never known he could fly, but by God did he feel like he had swooped down the stairs and flown off his feet and through the front door. He had made it three steps down from the manor's terrace when he saw Dick swerve his bike out the front gate, before it had even opened all the way. Dick was gone.

There had been no warning and no goodbye. He had learnt through Alfred why the other had left, and with Bruce, it seemed to break the man down. Not completely, of course, but enough that sometimes he would catch Bruce referring to Jason as Dick on patrol or during training. When Jason missed a leap that Dick could have easily made, there was a roar of fear and anger from the Bat, confused as to why Jason couldn’t be like the boy that had come before him.

Jason’s eyes flashed up to one of the screens before him, the video feed of a camera just outside the apartment complex that Black Mask resided in. A white limousine had pulled up out front and the man himself had entered into it, Jason watching with keen interest. His thoughts turned away from Dick Grayson, and to his plot before him, how it was unfolding before his eyes.

The limousine pulled away from the building, and made its way through the streets, passing key cameras that Jason had set up previously. He watched, acid green eyes practically gleaming, as, at last, the car peeled up a familiar driveway, and through a ten foot tall, steel gate, with the words ‘Arkham Asylum’ twisted into the metal.

At last, everything was coming together.

~X~

“Are you alright?” The voice beside him was soft and slow from exhaustion, and for a moment, he had forgotten what had happened the night before. For a moment, he had forgotten who had followed him home.

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dick Grayson sat beside him on the too thin mattress, running his kind fingers gently over his aching and scarred shoulders. They traced the marks that marred his skin, but Dick didn’t judge him for what had caused those marks. In fact, when Jason had revealed what had happened to Dick the first time, the other had been blinking back tears.

“I… I don’t know. You don’t want to hear it.”

“If it helps, then yes, I do.” Dick still surprised him. Despite the rather abrupt leaving that ended any relation between the two as children, they seemed closer now, more than ever. It had been sudden, and unexpected. Jason had never expected to meet Dick without interference from Bruce, and he had not expected such an unusual meeting. He nursed his hand, how the bones still ached and the cuts were still tearing through the stitches; probably due to his actions whilst asleep.

He had just led Bruce away and into the slums of Gotham. He had been beaten black and blue, Batman connecting his jaw and crown to the sink corner and toilet bowl of an abandoned apartment's bathroom. The Lazarus’ rejuvenation had kept him strong, but that shit still hurt. He had tried to fight back, but in the confined space, and nursing the injuries from having his head connect repeatedly with tile and brick he was struggling. He was dazed and desperate. He could beat Bruce. He knew he could. He had grown into the role of Red Hood, dedicated those long years separated from his estranged family into learning skills and tactics that even the Batman wouldn’t expect. He thought out every plot and every move. He had decided against the use of a gun. Otherwise, the fight would have ended far sooner. But to have his ass beat so badly; when the night had reached its end, he had crawled away licking his wounds in humiliation.

To think the bastard had actually gone out of his way to save that monster. Himself as well, but he did not want that! If he couldn’t have Bruce, the man he had dedicated his life to, one way or another, actually do something that Jason so desperately needed to survive, then Jason would end it there.

The fuck had mangled his hand, having thrown a batarang into the barrel right as he made his shot. And the Joker just laughed. He collapsed to the floor laughing, gasping for breath between his bouts and Jason couldn’t stand it. Bruce didn’t care. Joker had won, once more. He had been so angry. He had set up the bombs beforehand; a safety measure, he had told himself. Instead, he pressed the button, setting the timer and had taken to waiting for the bombs to count down.

Joker tried to keep Bruce there with them both, so that the three of them might die together in some stupidly poetic way. Instead, surprise, Bruce had pulled a last minute daring rescue. For _both_ Jason and the Joker. As long as that fuck breathed, Jason would never sleep. The building had blown, the brick and shockwave enough to send them all tumbling to the alley below. Jason had been knocked out of it, and the thought to shoot the giggling lunatic’s brains out had been tempting, but overshadowed by his need to escape and disappear into the streets.

He had taken to the rooftops, running as fast as he could. Bruce could follow, and the last thing he wanted was for that idiot to try and cuff him, maybe put him in Arkham. He had been so distracted in his run to escape, he hadn’t even noticed the other figure that had begun to tail him. He didn’t notice until he made a leap across a gap he had misjudged. He reached out his hand, but it had been his dominant hand. The one that had been mangled by Bruce’s interference. He went to grip the edge, but his hand released almost as soon as it touched stone, and Jason had howled in pain before beginning an uncontrollable tumble from the rooftops.

The idea that this would be how it ended was almost funny to Jason. He had been brought back to life only to die because he fell off a building. How pathetic was that? Instead, however, he heard the telltale hit of a grapple hook as it gripped a ledge, and felt a strong, slender body knock him out of the air. It hadn’t been the best save, but it was better than nothing. Jason could tell it had been a rescue done in a hurry, not expecting his screw up.

He fell on his hands and knees, glaring up at the figure from under the domino. His glare faltered, and Jason could feel a heavy weight in his chest, a lump constricting his throat as Nightwing stared back at him. The last time the two had met, Bruce had been there. Jason could focus his attention on the bigger threat, pretend the other didn’t exist. So long as he kept that up, he kept his cool. But now, it was just the two of them, the other having saved Red Hood from an ultimately stupid death.

“Red Hood. You’re coming with me.” Dick had pulled the two escrima sticks from where they rested against his back, he flashed his skill with them, but prepared himself in a fighting stance. Jason would learn later that the other had overheard the fight between them, and it had been Bruce that had requested Nightwing go after the ‘Red Hood’. He didn’t command the other to go after ‘Jason’, but the ‘Red Hood’. The criminal. Nightwing had been prepared for a fight, having heard how dangerous the Red Hood was from Bruce over their communications, but in that moment, Jason was stunned. He was still, staring at Nightwing. Mentally, Jason was screaming at him to leave, but he couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t concentrate.

Nightwing didn’t seem underwhelmed by the lack of aggression, just confused. His stance had relaxed and he had moved his way closer to Jason, kneeling beside him. His eyes scanned over Jason, but he had torn his eyes away, not wanting for the other to look at him. He felt one hand, having dropped the escrima stick to the cement, rest upon his own mangled one, gently feeling how the bone had splintered and how the miniature explosion had cut up the flesh, exposing muscle and spilling blood.

“I… We can get you some medical attention. Would you be okay with that?” Jason couldn’t answer, but he could feel how his eyes had begun to well up from the pain and stress. Stop talking to him. Please. Just stop. Tears had begun escaping from beneath the domino, loosening the adhesive keeping it stuck to his skin. The mask fell, and Dick took it in hand, gently raising Jason’s head. Their eyes met once more. Jason’s unnatural greens quivered in their sockets, compared to the calm sapphires that stared back at him. It was a long few moments of silence before Dick’s mouth slowly opened, his look of confusion and concern replaced instead by a look of shock.

“J-Jason?” The man in question sputtered, his tears flowing freely as the other brought him, just as quickly as he had prepared himself to fight, into his arms, pulling him close. The heat that seeped through Jason’s body armour warmed his chest and those arms held him with a familiar protectiveness from his time when he was a child. He almost felt like a child again, except, unlike then, he had grown. He was an adult now, as hard as it was to believe, and adults could appreciate things that children could not.

When the other gently pulled him an arm’s distance away so that he might study how Jason had changed, Jason had studied him in kind. The other had grown well from the teenager that Jason remembered, but he kept that youthful appearance with him, even into adulthood. His face had matured but those eyes held that same kindness that had promised Jason safety many years ago. The two of them now, stared at each other, and Dick had taken in all of his features with his face slowly turning from one of shock and relief, to one of melancholy. Jason was pulled back into a hug once again.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I’m… I’m sorry I… I wasn’t there. Jason… Oh my God… You… You’re alive.” Jason could feel the other’s tears, their cheeks pressed together as they sat there for who knows how long. They cried together. And when it was finally time to make a decision about what to do with Jason, the younger had watched in confusion as Dick pressed the tiniest button to his communications, shutting them off.

“Let’s get you home.”

Returning to his base of operations had been slow and silent for the most part, the two of them slipping stealthily into the building, Jason collapsing into a chair whilst Dick was guided to a first aid kit. He tended to him, once more it was primarily quiet. It had been as Dick had finished cleaning the wound that the other had begun to question what had happened. An argument had broken out.

Dick was, at first, understandably questioning why Jason had returned to them with the determination to ruin Batman, and take over the criminal deeds in Gotham. He had accused the al Ghuls for warping Jason’s mind, and whilst Jason was sure he wasn’t entirely wrong, hearing that as the only reason why Jason had changed made him mad. The two of them threw words at each other, and it all ended when Jason had revealed his plan.

“The building was abandoned!” Dick shut his mouth, eyes widening at Jason’s outburst. “I planned it all, don’t you see? The block itself was abandoned and due to be demolished in two days! I had cameras! I checked that place over for several weeks! It was just us! The guns I had stolen were all for Black Mask’s men, and for further arms deals on the streets. I prevented that! You’re welcome! Has Batman been dealing with nearly as many drug addicts younger than 18? No! I stopped that! And you want to know what makes this worse? Not only did he refuse to give me this… The thing I have needed since I was fucking abducted, but he refused to just let the bastard die! He refused to let me…” He had trailed off, his breath lost.

“Jason?” The younger was broken from his reverie as he felt a calming hand on his wrist, Jason looking up into Dick’s eyes, comforting and patient. “I would like to hear it. Whatever you have to say, you can tell me.” Right. That’s where he was. Last night was over. It was the morning. It was present. Dick was still with him despite their fight.

“Sorry. I just…”

“It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

“No…” Jason removed Dick’s hands, sitting up in bed, cricking his neck from the odd angle he had slept in. “It is not okay. Nothing is okay. I hurt you. I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t. Jason… I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again. That is a promise.”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep.”

~X~

“JASON!” His voice had ripped from his throat, and he felt those cold hands clawing for him, begging his help. He heard the laughter of that deranged clown, and could hear every crack of the crowbar hitting flesh. He could feel hot streams against his cheeks, his face red from crying. His whole body was cold. Too cold. The blankets had been removed from his side of the bed, probably from him kicking them off in his sleep.

“Dick… It’s okay, Dick. I’m right here.” The voice was soft, that deep, comforting gravel that Dick had come to love. The two of them laid together, and as the night air swept over Dick’s form from the open window, he felt Jason’s strong hands rest against his back, working gentle circles into his bare skin. It soothed his muscles, and it worked every time. Feeling those warm hands against his skin, instead of those cold, dead appendages raking through his flesh.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry…” Dick turned to the other in bed, and together, they brought each other close, Dick nuzzling his nose into the crook of Jason’s neck, taking in his scent and his heat. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I can’t imagine how many times I have kept you up from your ridiculous sleep schedule.” Dick could feel a gentle chuckle reverberate through his chest, and hummed in agreement, getting a kind laugh from Jason. “You probably woke up half the manor. You know I can’t be here…” Dick knew that. He knew that the other was still in an uneasy alliance with Bruce. The two had hardly made up but Jason was not actively working against Batman anymore.

“Sorry…”

“It is fine, Dick. Really. It is just… If Bruce catches me in anything less than my armour with you I may be sentenced to life in prison.” Another bout of laughter, this time from the both of them. Dick turned his head to look up at Jason now, peering into those since effected eyes, green but not burning bright as they did when the younger man was angered. Since that night, they rarely glowed anymore. They rarely burned with the acidic Lazarus Pit, and when Jason got heated, Dick had been the one to calm him down. It had been some months since that night, and now, the two of them were hiding away their dealings, out of sight of Bruce, and with only a knowing glance from Alfred the next morning.

Their heads drew close, and for a moment, Jason’s lips skirted Dick’s own. They had gone much farther than kissing in the past few months. Alfred could attest to that, since he was the one that dealt with laundry despite Dick’s insistence that he could take care of it. And still, the older man refused to give Bruce any hint as to what was occurring between his two eldest protégés.

Jason’s head rested against Dick’s own, their crowns leaning gently against each other's, comforting. They rested there like that for a few seconds, or minutes, Dick wasn’t sure, before Jason turned his head, leaning forward to gently whisper in Dick’s ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yes.” His response was quiet, reserved, very much unlike the confidence that Batman’s golden child had to offer. In this case, Jason appreciated the quiet response.

“I had a nightmare too. And do you want to know what it was?”

“Yes.” Jason had always refused to say anything about his nightmares. He refused to say anything about the evils that plagued him, keeping him alert and awake at night. Dick had never felt closer to the other, now that he was about to divulge such information to him.

“I dreamt of the grave. I could hear you above me, and you were crying, the little princess that you are.” He laughed, and Dick, through his tears, laughed too. “The bottom of the grave swallowed me whole. I couldn’t breathe, Dick. I was dropped into the pit. I was starting to drown. But… Do you want to know the best thing about the nightmare?”

“What?”

“I heard you cry my name. You woke me up. You pulled me out. Dick…” He moved now, his body over Dick’s, not quite pinning him to the mattress, but resting his weight on his hands, his face burrowing into Dick’s neck. “You were there, Dick. You were there with me. You still are.”

They kissed. It was slow, and light. It lacked the lust that had fuelled their passion in the past weeks, but it pulled them closer. It was warm and comforting, and Dick had never felt happier. When Jason pulled away, Dick rested a gentle hand upon his cheek, eyes wide and pleading ‘don’t go’.

“I dreamed of you disappearing. You were being taken away from me again. I dreamed that they had killed you, Jason, and I don’t think I can live through that again…”

“You will never lose me. Not again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I certainly enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Harcourt Holmes II.


	3. Interlude of Snippets #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been really terrible at getting the time to post up the second chapter to this book. I have been struggling a little and a little while ago, I started writing the second actual chapter and have been happy with it thus far. Since I am not ready to post the actual chapter as of yet, I have decided to post these short snippets from potential story ideas that I have had. Some are based on prompts that I found online and others are purely of my own design.  
These are not all the snippets that I have written, as I will save more for another time, once I hit another hiatus (since I am almost positive it will happen again) or for when I am struggling and just need to write. I hope you enjoy! I hope to get the next chapter out very soon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
Sexual References  
Referenced Physical Abuse  
Referenced Verbal Abuse

Music was pulsating in his eardrums, overbearingly loud and heavily pounding through his muscles and bone with each beat. It was much too crowded in here. Jason felt stray hands over his chest and hips, some getting far too close to his holster for comfort. The last thing he needed was a panic before he reached his target.

The sick bastard in question was seated on a plush red lounge, looking over the dance floor from a raised balcony, drink in hand and guarded. He seemed to be taking more joy out of scanning the dance floor for his next victim than the drink in his hand or the woman rocking herself over his left knee. It was disgusting, and as he sipped his champagne, Jason wanted to just line up the shot and finish this now. However, the movement of everyone surrounding him would throw him off and if he did not time it just right, everyone would immediately notice. He needed to get closer, but two men in suits and with wires stood guard at the only stairwell leading up.

Jason was caught off guard by a pair of hands on his hips, stiffening and feeling his hands twitch, Jason wishing he just had his gun in hand already. Undercover missions were not Jason’s forte, as too much strange or foreign stimulation got him exceptionally uncomfortable. He felt the figure lean forward behind him, resting their chest along his back. They were shorter than he was, built but lean and with a strong grip on the hoops of Jason’s pants.

He felt them stand higher, on tip toes, to reach his ear and felt their breath along his cheek and temple. The blood was rushing to Jason’s head. The music was hammering a migraine into his skull. He was beginning to overheat, an acidic burn creeping through his veins, all along his body and up to his temples. A pair of lips rested lightly over his ear, and it was a sultry, but commanding voice that reached him. A familiar sound.

“Relax.”

“G-Goldie-” Jason started, but the other shushed him, and had returned to standing normally, circling himself around the younger man so that Jason had taken up the position Dick was in; front to back.

“You need to calm down.” Dick always managed to fit himself so perfectly into any situation. He could play the uptight aristocrat, the determined cop, the blushing sweetheart and the commanding leader, and even when thrown into a situation unfamiliar to the masked vigilante, he adapted. Jason hadn’t noticed him in the crowd. “Your eyes.”

Jason shook his head, trying to concentrate on calming his nerves. Despite the other continuing his act, rolling his ass over Jason’s hips and grinning like a Cheshire cat in the club’s colourful neon lights, his blue eyes were wide; worried. Jason focussed on him. The other’s presence, no matter how unusual their situation, was an anchoring point. Something to concentrate on.

“What are you doing here?” Jason leaned forward, similar to how Dick had been before, except this time he leaned down, chin just over Dick’s shoulder, hands on the other’s hips. He could feel the other’s heat through his gloves and the other’s jeans, he could smell the faintest of alcohol on his person. Dick turned his head to look up at Jason, fluttering his lashes slightly, grin teasing Jason’s clearly uncomfortable state.

“Helping. I’ve been known to do that.”

“I had this under control.” Jason could see the look turn disbelieving, but no less teasing.

“Of that, I’m sure. Please, Jay, don’t take me for an idiot. You could have taken a shot at someone that wasn’t your target in just a few seconds.”

“I wouldn-”

“Your eyes said differently.” A growl of frustration rumbled through Jason’s chest, despising how easy he had become to read, as without the infamous red helmet, Jason’s eyes were a dead giveaway into his mental state. Since his dip in the Pit, his eyes had become a vibrant shade of emerald, but any time he felt himself getting mad, getting a little too excited or becoming unstable, they began to shine a violent shade of acidic green, to match the Lazarus Pits burning waters.

“Look,” Dick started, turning his head away and turning his eyes down towards the floor, “I know you prefer to work alone, but you need to relax. You stand out.”

“Why help me? You know what I am going to do to this creep.”

“Maybe because I’m hoping you won’t.”

“You have some high hopes, Goldie.”

“I want to think the best of you, Jay.” He rolled his eyes at the other’s sappy response. He was very aware that his estranged family did not much appreciate how Jason worked, cleaning up the streets of Gotham by providing a permanent solution. Many times they had arrived just short of stopping him, and Bruce had nearly attacked Jason right there. In some cases, he had.

He felt Dick stiffen against his hips, and the Cheshire grin faltered, before widening ever so slightly. The look that Dick gave him caused Jason’s cheeks to fill with pink.

“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy I’m here?” Jason cleared his throat, eyes shifting ashamedly.

“It’s a gun.”

“Then I best try harder.”

~X~

“Okay, seriously, where the fuck did you put my helmet?” Jason was rummaging through all sorts of drawers in his and Dick’s shared bedroom; tossing shirts, pants, boxers and socks all over the room. He had been searching for his red hood for several minutes, and right after getting an alert on the police scanner in the living room.

“I don’t know, Jay. Haven’t seen it.” Dick’s raised voice came from outside in the kitchen, where he was attempting to put together a meal for this evening’s dinner plans. Roy, his niece and Kori were due to come by for dinner, and whilst the other was attempting to make some kind of stir fry, Jason was attempting to find the rest of his bloody uniform so he could go and deal with the much more pressing issue at hand.

“You’re kidding me?! You always know where it is! And Hell, you don’t even sound concerned!”

“Gordon’s got it! Simple bank robbery.”

“With hostages!”

“And Batman is on the way, anyway. We’re fine! Now get out here and help me stir the rice, will you?”

Jason left the bedroom behind him, storming into the kitchen where Dick was, humming away over a mess of bowls and saucepans, the smell of smoke thick in the air. Jason coughed, making a move to a window, opening it and airing out the room with one hand. Dick just smiled at him from where he stood behind the island counter, stirring what looked like a red hot mix, almost a matching colour to that of his helmet.

“Exactly how much chilli did you put in?”

“Well, the recipe said one, but I thought for an extra kick maybe the other six would be nice.”

“Right, so we’re all going to be either dead or dying come morning tomorrow. Look, where the Hell is my helmet?! I’m not going without it!”

“Exactly! So, you’re staying in tonight.”

“I need to get out there and help!”

“Like you do every night. Come on, and take a break. Look, in the time you’ve been in your room I’ve heard the updates. There are no more hostages and Gordon is looking after it. Bruce has messaged me as well to let me know he is also keeping an eye out in case this isn’t a normal robbery.”

“Yeah, because Batman catches everything.” Jason huffed, sarcastically. “I’m going!”

“Not without your helmet you’re not~” Dick said in a sing-song voice, placing the pot down and beginning to stir the mix with two hands on the spoon.

“So where the fuck is it then?”

“Tut tut, Jason. You know how Roy feels when you swear in front of Lianne.”

“She’s not here yet!”

“They will be!”

Jason let out a frustrated groan. “Why is it that tonight of all nights you have chosen to be the most despicable man in existence?”

“Because we have a dinner date planned, it is a simple robbery being handled by the police _and _Batman, I haven’t seen Lianne and Roy in months and you haven’t had a night off in months! Thus, you are staying in!”

“You know that keeping me here is not doing anything for the greater good?”

Dick turned around, a glint in his eyes that Jason recognised. Oh no.

“Greater good? Greater good?! I am your boyfriend! I am the greatest good you are ever gonna get!” Jason cringed whilst Dick let out a bout of laughter, apparently very amused by his own ability to quote a children’s movie.

“This is why I never let you watch movies anymore.”

“Let me? My word, you think you have a choice?” Dick grinned, and held up the bowl for Jason to grab the spoon and start stirring, and Jason took it hesitantly but with a tired smile on his face.

It was as Jason was beginning to stir that he noted something that made his jaw near hit the floor. He looked down at the bowl of rice in his hands, how the rim of the bowl was bright, metallic red and oddly shaped. His eye twitched beneath the domino.

“You asshole.”

“Oh, yay! You found your helmet!”

~X~

The Wayne Gala was an experience anyone who was wealthy, of nobility or high status in Gotham sought to be a part of. It was a proud moment for them to be invited or allowed in for the evening’s events, and this year was no different.

The main hall was lit up with the crystal chandeliers, the draperies parted to reveal the night sky and the light snowfall as Christmas drew near. By one of the entrances, a giant fir tree had taken up residence, decorated with gold and silver. Long tables with ironed white table clothes bore hundreds of plates, stacked high with food and delicacies from all across the globe. Hired help moved with ease about the hall, presenting small dishes and glasses of only the finest champagne to Gotham’s high class.

Jason pulled lightly at the collar of his tuxedo, groaning softly in frustration. He hated dressing up for events like this. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be here anyway. It was by Alfred’s insistence that he showed up and left his room, and he couldn’t say no to the man that was closer to him than either his blood or adopted father.

It wasn’t Jason’s scene. He hated the crowds and the gossip. He loathed how there would be those who were always so ‘kind’, donating thousands of dollars to a charity or practice and then slapping their name like a brand over the cheque. Now, everyone knew them for their charitable deed, something they ‘didn’t want the recognition for’ or ‘didn’t think it was a big deal’. Bullshit. All of it.

He fiddled with the little red bow tie, and then turned his attention to his cuff links. Anything to keep his mind from wandering too far. He didn’t want to be spoken to, but since Bruce had blown his cover, he expected it.

Bruce Wayne’s adopted son, the street rat from Gotham’s back alleys, had been found after being held captive years after his supposed death. The Batman had recovered him. Bruce Wayne had welcomed him back to the family. Jason Todd was dead no more. Jason hated him for it. He knew why the other did it, and it was one of the most selfish things he had ever done.

Rather than having an Ace in the hole; no one aware of Jason Todd’s existence, where he could work openly and be unmasked and unrecognisable, now he was tethered to the family. It meant that Jason had to not only be more careful, but had to stoop to asking the older man for help when it came to missions, lest Jason be outnumbered, overrun and revealed. The other had taken away his ability to be free from notice, and had replaced it with a dependence on the family.

He had since moved back in with the rest of the family, another safety measure on Bruce’s part, so that way he might be always within reach should Jason do something out of the Clan’s code of conduct. In this way, he had many distrustful eyes on him.

Damian had taken up that role with ease, always suspicious and never one to leave him alone when bored. The little demon spawn made it a point to taunt and tease the older man whenever they were alone, and Jason had since gotten used to ignoring him. But those words stayed with you.

‘Pathetic.’

‘Father pitied you.’

‘He shouldn’t have let the stray in.’

Tim had been quiet for the most part, but he was always nervous, expecting Jason to fly into a rage when they shared the same space for longer than a few seconds. He made himself scarce, or if Jason was in a certain mood, Tim would attempt to ‘appease’ him.

‘I’m sorry Bruce did that to you.’

‘I’m sorry you have to be here.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Stephanie had taken to teasing him, not as cruelly so as Damian, but she was always so bubbly and overexcitable, Jason was pretty certain she didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. He wasn’t bothered by it. Really. He wasn’t.

‘You little bitch, Jason.’

‘Big, bad, daddy bat want you home, Jay?’

‘Have you put the gun away, Jay? You know dad doesn’t want you playing with those.’

Cassandra was quiet, as per usual. Rarely said a thing. That was all he needed. She at least spoke with the others. Since his coming home, she had refused to say a word. She watched him whenever they were in the same room, and he had caught sight of her a few times, peeking around corners as he entered in or out of his room, and had taken to picking his lock up in the Cave, checking his gun for real bullets instead of the blanks Bruce provided him.

Bruce was as harsh as ever, and had taken to forcing Jason to training with the rest of the Robins, attempting to rework his rather brutal tactics into the light kicks and punches of the trained Robin. Jason’s body wasn’t built for the same martial arts he had been trained in. His muscles and brawn weighed him down and thus he couldn’t rely on being weightless and acrobatic. He had to be the tank. He had learned to take the hits to get the upper hand or opening in a fight. Bruce did not care. They trained long into the night, unsuccessful as always, and Jason nursing injuries the younger members of the clan did not.

‘Concentrate, Jason!’

‘I taught you better.’

‘You’ve gotten sloppy.’

The only one that didn’t seem to be having any issues with Jason’s presence was Alfred. Then again, the butler had been the one to raise Jason between training sessions when he had become Robin. He taught Jason how to cook, how to clean, helped him with mathematics and science homework, and held conversations about Jason’s day at Gotham Academy and how the works of Tolstoy were quite genius. When Jason returned home, Alfred had showed him to his old room, had helped him move his stuff back in, and the two of them spent their time together, a few short minutes, sitting on the edge of Jason’s bed and just talking. It was the most welcome Jason had felt.

'I missed you.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincerely,
> 
> Harcourt Holmes II.


	4. Search and Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The suits the BatClan wear are wired with vital monitoring tied to the BatComputer. One day, while Red Hood is in the BatCave, because reasons, Nightwing's suit suddenly goes offline. Panic ensues, because Nightwing was in the middle of patrol and nothing bad was happening. All of a sudden, the BatComputer flashes with a new message, the sigil of the League of Assassins plastered over the screen.
> 
> (Prompt by Oky_Verlo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JayDick (M/M)
> 
> Warnings:  
Violence  
Threats of Violence  
Abduction  
Death  
Swearing (AKA Jason's Potty Mouth)  
Sexual References  
Poorly Written Action Scenes

Jason Todd had been thankful to find that the Cave was currently uninhabited, with no Agent A or Batman in sight. Last thing he wished was to explain his intrusion into the sacred space, and he was certain the Clan might just assume he came to assassinate or at maim them. They’d be wrong but they probably wouldn’t take the chance.

He was actually there to hack their files a little; get some information on one of the crooks in the Red Hood’s territory that Batman had refused to share, lest the criminal be executed. That, at least, was more than likely a correct assumption. He had no doubt that what he found in this guy’s files would help him in finding the creep and putting a bullet between his eyes.

There was the beeping of the vitals display just to his right, one screen lit with details of each member of the Clan that were active at this time. Their heart rate, their oxygen levels, blood pressure, temperature and more. Bruce, Dick, Tim and Damian were all present on the screen, and it seemed like a regular patrol night, based on the vitals. Such monitoring felt a little intrusive, but he didn’t have to care about it at least, his helmet having a built in display of his own vitals so that he might track if he was in danger of being hurt, brainwashed or drugged (sometimes all three).

He returned his attention back to his work, scanning each file and downloading more than what he expected to, as he discovered more criminals within his territory that were not being dealt with because of Batman’s pride. He snagged each file and as he started to decrypt some of the more classified pieces, he heard a sudden, long pip, one which pierced his eardrums as he turned to look at the vitals. Dick Grayson’s signs were suddenly missing, his screen red and frozen.

What the Hell?

Jason checked it over, expecting for the sudden, unresponsive screen to have just glitched, due to his meddling. The more he tried to do however, the more hopeless it became. Something had compromised Dick’s scanner, and not just him taking off his uniform. As Jason tried to determine where he was last located when the suit’s scanner failed, there was a sudden message on the main screen of the computer. The sigil of the League of Assassin’s branded the display and Jason grit his teeth in anger.

He punched the keys, bringing up the video message, watching as the screen flickered to life, revealing a rundown room in one of Gotham’s many abandoned apartment complexes. In the centre of the room was a chair, bound in chains and near stripped down was Dick Grayson, nursing a bloodied cut over his temple. Surrounding him were four characters dressed in dark clothes, and from behind, letting her long brown hair down was the princess herself, Talia al Ghul.

“Beloved,” Jason seethed, feeling his veins begin to burn, “I have something you want” she said, gesturing to Dick’s unconscious body, moving behind him and resting her hands over his bare chest. Jason glared as those fingers ran over fair and bruised skin, feeling the acidic burn in his veins begin to expand into his chest.

“And you have something I want. Give me my son, Beloved, and we will make a trade. Now, I did not wish to do this, but I need my son returned to me. You’ve been truly wasting his potential, and I cannot have that.”

That was it?! The lady wanted Damian! Jason ignored her words from here on out, he could listen to them on his way over to save Goldie from this stupidity. Instead, he focussed his eyes on the room they were in. He didn’t recognise it, but it was rundown, and it had to be nearby Nightwing’s patrol route if the recorded message was taken so soon. The assassins in the background looked injured, nursing crooked arms and one sitting, favouring their left leg. Good on him. Went down fighting.

The League wouldn’t keep him there long. They wouldn’t chance it. They would move him soon and then, unless they followed Talia’s instructions, they were not going to see Dick Grayson again. He could feel the heat swell into his temples, and caught the reflection of that burning green in the display screen. No! He needed to keep a cool head. He couldn’t go out yet. He needed every detail.

The building was old. He could see the wallpaper was tearing, revealing bricks and pipes hidden there. The room was bare, save for a small table at which the assassin with the injured leg sat at. Another chair sat nearby, and then there was Dick Grayson himself in the middle. No photographs, no curtains, nothing! There was the window. What could he see? The night sky… The moon! Okay, so it was one of the taller buildings, as none of the shorter apartment complexes could see over the surrounding buildings. What else?

“So, I will send you another message shortly. We will make our demands then, understand, my Beloved? Follow every instruction, or…” Talia revealed a knife, and rested it dangerously close to Dick’s jugular. Jason could see a thin line of red begin its trail down his throat, and felt his fingers begin to crack in their fists. He was going to kill her.

Wait! What was that? He took the video back several seconds, listening closely. “We will make our demands then, understand my Bel-”

There! He heard it again. It was soft. A deep humming sound, and now he could see the building rattle slightly around them. The light above them swung slightly, and the brick dust began to cloud the room by the assassins’ feet. He took the video back again, and using one of the Bat Computer’s various programs to separate and focus on sounds, bringing them to higher volume, he listened again. It was faint, but he could hear it.

It was the sound of a train.

It would take some work, but cross-referencing this detail with Dick Grayson’s route, they had to be close enough, but why would the sound be so muted if the building itself was shaking?

The underground railway!

He looked over several maps, detailing the underground train lines, and following them up with Dick’s usual patrol route, meant that the building had to be about…

There! But still left such a large area to cover! Shit!

He wasn’t Tim! He wasn’t as intelligent as the younger boy, and he didn’t have the technology know-how of Oracle. He was stuck! There was nothing left in the video, no other clues. Calling the Bat Clan out would take too long and cause too much trouble. What if one of them was spotted scouring the streets and buildings? He couldn’t risk the danger to Dick.

But… Maybe he didn’t need all of them to complete this mission. He hated the thought, and no doubt the other would hate his being there, would probably try to kill him first, but… He needed him. The two of them could do this. Easy! Now all he needed to do was convince him…

He punched the communications button, and brought up the little shit’s feed. He could see the youngest member of the Bat Clan perform a perfect landing onto a building’s rooftop, and could hear his breaths over the feed.

“What is it, Agent A? I have little interest in being bothered.” Jason glared at the display, and growled slightly under his breath. “If you have something to say, spit it out, Agent A-”

“Damian.”

Jason took some pleasure in catching the little demon off guard, watching as he fumbled his footing on one such leap between rooftops, catching himself in a somersault. Just as quickly, he had regained his footing, and Jason could almost hear the sneer in his voice.

“Hood.”

“I need you to meet me at this location, now and without-”

“Where is Agent A?” Jason rolled his eyes. Please, like he would ever hurt Alfred.

“Out. It doesn’t matter. I need your help. And no, it cannot involve Timmy or your old man. Dick’s life is on the line.” He could hear the faintest intake of breath and for few seconds, he was greeted with silence. The little Robin was quick to regain his composure however.

“Where?”

“Gotham High Square Railway Line. There is a building just to the North of it that bears one gargoyle, and three broken chimneys. Clearly abandoned. Meet me on its roof and come alone. Anyone else and we may ruin our chances of getting Dick back.”

He received no response, but he watched as the camera turned off course, and began its route South. Perfect. Jason hurried to his motorbike, leaping onto it with some grace, before tearing out of the Batcave, leaving behind only the smell of gasoline and the smear of tyre tracks one the floor.

~X~

**CRACK!**

Welp… He should have expected that. The little demon dived through the air, tackling Jason’s larger form, their two bodies twisting into a clumsy somersault until Jason pinned him to the rooftop. His head was ringing from that hit, the helmet echoing the sound continuously into his eardrums, deafening him. He watched as Damian twisted and tried to force Jason’s gloved hands from his wrists, snarling at him like some angry kitten. But Jason had the upper hand now. Jason was strong, enough so that he could break the little Bat’s bones in one hit if he wanted to. He knew this. Damian knew this. But Damian wouldn’t stop, attempting to twist his legs free of Jason’s knees.

“Stop struggling. I am not here to fight. Least not you.”

“You are proving otherwise.” Damian spat back at him.

“I didn’t make the first move. I just defended myself.” Damian’s struggles calmed and Jason forced himself to stand, shaking his head to relieve himself of the pain. It didn’t help, but… No… That just made it worse. “You hit pretty hard, brat.” Damian shot to his feet, on guard but not ready to start a fight he couldn’t win.

“Where is Nightwing?”

“Right to the point. I must admit, I do like that about you, pipsqueak.” Jason huffed a sound of laughter, pulling his helmet off, relieving the pressure of sound bouncing continuously off metal. “Goldie is with your mother.”

“Pardon?” Damian’s voice held a tone of surprise, but he kept his visible composure, crossing his arms impatiently, waiting for Jason to elaborate.

“Talia and some of her goons caught him off guard. He was attacked. Fought back. But now, they are trying to make a deal with B to get him to trade him with you.” Damian’s brow quirked beneath the mask, and Jason could see him contemplating what he just said.

“If that is the case, do you plan on turning me over?”

“What?” Jason turned, a look of pure confusion and offense upon his face. His reaction seemed to surprise the younger, who was quick to elaborate.

“Well, you certainly like Nightwing more than I, and I would expect no less from a criminal who wishes to copulate with him.” Jason could feel a flush enter his cheeks.

“No. I mean… Not what I’m trying to do. Look, let’s get this straight,” Jason stepped over to the Robin and knelt beside him, the two of them eye-to-eye at this level, “I hate you. Like… A lot. Truly. Few people piss me off more.” Robin just smirked, holding his head high with pride. “But, your mother… I hate her a lot more. The bitch,” there was a slight glare, “Fine. Your MOTHER has done a lot of shit I really don’t like, and I would rather die for the second time than give that bi- give Talia anything.”

Damian listened patiently, but shrugged his shoulders at least. “Makes some semblance of sense, I suppose. But still… Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one that is not going to actively stop me from working as I do, and you are the stealthiest of all of us, something I need. I have only been able to narrow down Goldie’s location,” he pulled out the paper map he stole from the Cave, “to anywhere within this area, and any other member of the Clan will tip them off. At least with you, they might be willing to negotiate should they spot you, and they haven’t met me since I became the Red Hood. To them, I’ll just appear as some masked criminal, hopefully, and besides, you’ll need some muscle to break their necks. Your spindly little arms couldn’t do shit.”

“Again, it makes some sense, however,” Damian looked over the rooftops, raising a hand to his chin, resting his jaw on the knuckle, thinking, “what if father does come, tracking me?”

“Then we best hope we find Goldie first,” his helmet was returned to its usual place, Jason taking up position side by side with Damian, rolling up the map, “and we best be quick about it. So he doesn’t immediately track us and potentially ruin the plan, tune your communications into channel 16.3.78. You head East and I’ll head West. Whoever finds Dickiebird first, contacts the other, and should they be caught and in conversation with the League, try and use the word ‘perfectly’ in a sentence. We respond according to the usual Clan-Hostage situation, deal?”

Damian nodded simply, and without another word, he turned, making a running dash towards the edge of their building, and performing a running leap to the next rooftop. Jason turned his vision West and took a long running start, dropping to the concrete of the rooftop below, starting the long dash following the Gotham Underground Line.

He didn’t like having to rely on the newest Robin, but he had no choice. He needed the extra pair of eyes and fists. Damian was the best option for this operation, and no doubt Jason was going to get chewed out for his decision by the Bat later. Still, if the mission was successful, Jason didn’t care. He was getting Dick Grayson back.

~X~

He should have known it wasn’t going to be so easy. He should have known that a mission like this was not going to go well, but he had let himself hope that it would be a simple rescue mission. It was not looking like it would be the case.

“Mother… How _perfectly_ delightful to see you again.”

Jason had cringed, realising the issue. Using the radio signal, he had followed Damian’s trail to a small apartment block, abandoned and untouched. He was perched outside, watching from a nearby rooftop, able to barely make out silhouettes through the window. He could hear them over the radio, Talia having decided now was the time to catch up. It meant more time for Jason to think of a plan, but more time for the younger Robin to screw up. He trusted Damian to look out for Dick, but not for Jason. That, and the other was very confrontational, often blunt. He was a little too honest for his own good. One wrong word and Jason was going to lose his potential for surprise.

He had heard over the radio Dick’s voice as well, awake and strained, but alive. He had felt a weight being released from his chest, and he felt like he could breathe again, realising the other hadn’t been killed. He couldn’t rely on Talia to keep him like that for long. The only thing staying her hand was Damian’s presence.

He checked his person. Guns. Explosive ammunition. Smoke bombs. Miniature explosive discs. Combat knife. Lock picks. Shit. His inventory was perfect for open combat, but without Dick unrestrained, his weaponry would prove only to cause Talia to panic. He had to be smart about this. Fuck! What would Dick do? Probably talk his way out of it, charismatic bastard.

He had to prevent, at least, five different people from slitting Dick’s throat, all of them trained assassins. Throwing a smoke bomb in there would only cause them to prepare such an execution, probably just do it outright. Jason couldn’t allow it to happen! And he got the kid mixed up in this, as much as he hated him! How could he do this?

He couldn’t sit on this issue for long. Don’t panic! What would Dick do? How would he deal with this? Probably just be perfect at negotiating himself out of the situation, and since that clearly hadn’t worked, it was never going to. What to do?

It was then that Jason had an idea. It was a stupid idea. Really stupid. The building was abandoned, these streets untouched. Raising his hand to his helmet, he pressed a series of small buttons, his world going dark. Seven figures in the building across from him lit up, yellow, red and green. Only seven. Looking about, indeed, the street was just as abandoned as the building. He had to speak to Damian. He would only have a few seconds before Talia heard and removed the communicator. He had to be quick and careful as to what he said.

“Damian, I need you to-”

“What is that, my son?”

“- brace yourself and Dick. You’ll kno-” Jason heard the rustle of harsh fingers over the radio signal, heard Damian bite back some cruel words and heard the rustle as the communicator was put to Talia’s ear, listening.

“Why are you off patrol route?” Jason recovered, hopping from the rooftop onto the roof of the apartments, silently. He could still hear the stir of movement as one of the assassins checked the window, searching for what may have made the noise.

“Robin. Answer.” Act like this is what you do every night. He moved to hover over the fire escape, watching as the assassin glance about, paranoid and aware. He had to be careful here. It wouldn’t be easy… He waited. He could hear Talia remove the communicator and heard the painful crush of static and the radio switching to complete silence. Destroyed. That’s okay. This is all he needed.

He rested his hands over the back of his helmet, pulling it off, pulling out his gun and removing one glove, resting it lightly within the helmet, and quietly began unloading his bullets into the glove so as to silent their rattles against the helm.

“Well, it seems your disappearance has been noted. No matter. We’ll just be rid of Grayson now, I suppose.”

“Mother, you do not have to.”

Jason had finished unloading all but one of his eighteen bullets into the glove, using the piece that sealed his helmet to his skull to seal the glove tight.

“You care for him?”

“I told you I’m irresistible.” There was a hiss, following the sound of cracking cartilage. Jason seethed. He saw red. Cocky bastard needed to learn to keep his mouth shut.

“No. But you don’t wish to anger father.”

“Hmm… That is a thought.”

Jason had lowered himself quietly down the fire escape, keeping just to the left of the window. It was an awkward position, attempting to keep his hand on the helmet with the added weight, his gun, and keeping himself from falling off the metal platform.

“But your father angered me.” Jason moved closer to the window and lined up a throw, readying his gun.

“Losing one son of an extended family is not something he’ll miss. He’ll get more.”

Bitch. Jason threw the mask forward, all eyes for the briefest second locked onto the strange appearance. Jason whipped around the rim of the window, lining up his shot. His eyes landed on Dick for a moment, who seemed just as surprised as Talia as she called something out in her mother tongue. Damian leapt forward, forcing Dick’s chair to the floor and covering them both as best he could with his cape.

The explosive was immediate. Big. Damaging. The apartment block rocked with its power. Jason was thrown against the railing of the metal fire escape. A sharp pain pinched his ribcage, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t react. The steel bolts connecting the fire escape were wrenched away by the force, and he only realised he was falling as he hit the cement with a CRASH!

On the inside, Damian had managed to brace Dick from the explosion. He felt the heat burn all up along his back and legs and how Dick cringed as the fire licked his shins and feet. The building rocked all around them. There were sounds of surprise and anguish as several bodies flew across the room, not braced for the force of the explosion. There were cries of pain as the explosive bullets bounced off the walls. There was an uncomfortable _PING!_ as a couple bullets bounced off Damian’s bulletproof cape, mentally thanking his father for his insistence on wearing the armour.

Damian immediately flew to work, picking the locks over Dick’s strapped down hands. The other groaned from being forced suddenly to the floor, the back of his skull connecting to the wood. There was the sound of something crashing heavily to the ground outside. Damian cared little. He needed Nightwing free this instant! The locks clicked with Damian’s success, the younger helping the man to his feet, their eyes looking blearily about the room. Two of the four assassins laid motionless, the others nursing their injuries. Talia stood from where she was, blood running like a river from a cut hidden away in her brown hair. She looked furious.

She launched forward, lunging for Damian when Dick pushed him out of the way, hands up to lock fingers with her, whipping her through the air and into the wall behind him. There was a crunch of brick, Talia falling to the ground, hissing in pain, hand at her side. One of the two standing assassins made their way after Dick, Damian pulling out his katana, blocking a slice aimed for Dick’s neck. They clashed, Damian and Dick fighting back to back, Talia up from the floor and pulling out a gun. Dick hurriedly caught her wrist, pushing it up in time for the trigger to be pulled, one round going off into the ceiling above their heads. Dust fell into their eyes, Dick blinking blearily, only to be punched in the gut by Talia’s other hand.

Outside, Jason felt a blossoming heat at the back of his skull, a damp causing his hair to stick to the asphalt. He sat up, head swimming, eyes drawn up to the sounds of combat, just in time to see a small, colourful figure falling from a hole in one of the upper floors, attempting to twist midair. Jason pulled himself to his feet, racing and managing to catch the other in his arms before he hit the road. He grit his teeth, a snapping sound resounding between the two of them, Robin looking up at him in surprise. Surprise quickly turned to determination, and as quickly as he had caught the little vigilante, the boy was up, holding the sword in a defensive position, as an assassin had dived out of the apartment and attempted to take a swing. When they clashed, Jason pushed himself past Damian, connecting his fist to the assassin’s cheek, sending him flying into the foundation of the apartment building. The other assassin had dived out of the apartment, diving in to defend as his partner got himself back to his feet.

The fight continued on, Talia and Dick exchanging blows until Dick was sent falling out of the upper floor. He latched onto one of the window ledges, halting his fall, looking up at Talia, sporting a growing bruise across her nose and left eye. She sneered down at him, turning her gaze back into the apartment, contemplating for a moment. As Dick attempted to get a better grip on the ledge, a sharp, high pitched whistle resounded in his ear, both assassins on the ground somersaulting back and out of the way.

Smoke bombs filled the area, Jason and Damian covering their lips, attempting to find the assassin’s through the dark cloud. Dick glared up at Talia, who offered him one last smile, stained with blood. With an acrobatic flip, using one of the exposed beams from the explosion, kicked him with a great force across his skull, Dick’s head spinning. He knew not to let go, but his body was out of it since he had been beaten the first time. He spat blood, and felt his fingers come loose, entering a brief period of free fall. It was only by luck Jason had been able to spot his body through the black, raising his hands and collapsing under the other’s deadweight as he landed against Jason’s body.

Jason could feel his lungs empty of all oxygen as he broke Dick’s fall, glaring up with acidic green eyes, watching as Talia threw the smoke bomb to the floor of the apartment, and a few floors up, the building was filled with a dark cloud. No doubt she was gone. He growled lowly, wanting desperately to chase her down, but movement from Dick pulled his attention away. He looked down at his predecessor, feeling himself relax at the sight of the other offering him a thankful and exhausted smile. The burn behind his eyes and in his heart simmered down, Jason helping Dick sit up, trying to ignore the pain in his wrist from when Damian first fell out of the building.

“Little Wing.”

“Goldie.” The smile that followed Jason’s response caused his heart to skip in his chest, clearing his throat and pushing the other out of his lap. “You’re an idiot.”

“You’re both idiots.” Damian stood a few feet away, glowering beneath the domino, tapping one foot in impatience. He didn’t look particularly impressed by the picture before him, sneering at the two of them. “We need to get back to base. Don’t need you being kidnapped again, oh-so-perfect second in command.”

“Fine.” Dick stood, offering a hand to Jason, who ignored it, standing on his own. “Thanks, Little Wing. You should come with us and get your wrist checked.” Jason tucked his left hand out of sight, feeling a slight blush enter his cheeks.

“Nah. Don’t need B getting suspicious of me just being in the Batcave. Beside,” he gestured up at the apartment, “there are at least two knocked out assassins up there. I best get to cuffing them. I’ll visit the Doc later.”

Dick offered him a worried look, which Jason shrugged off, and for a few moments, there was an awkward silence. It wasn’t often Jason actually spoke with Dick, certainly not for an extended period of time. Despite his interest in Dick, he never sought him out to express it, and with the way the little demon spawn was glaring at him, now was not the time.

“Hurry home. Get yourself fixed up. I’ll clean up this mess, before the Bat gets here.”

Dick offered him a kind smile, outstretching his hands and wrapping his arms around Jason’s shoulders. For a moment, he didn’t know how to react, but soon, that warmth caused him to relax and bring the other closer, wincing slightly at the pressure on his wrist. He hid it as best he could, giving the other an awkward half smile when he pulled away.

“Thank you, Little Wing. Come by the Cave sometime. I’d like to make sure you actually followed through and saw the Doctor. I worry about you sometimes.” He tussled Jason’s dark locks, causing Jason’s white fringe to tickle his eyelids and brow. There was another harrumph from somewhere to their right, Dick pulling away and offering Damian an exaggerated roll of the eyes. “Alright, little devil. Come on.”

“Finally. I could vomit.”

Dick offered Jason a brief wave of the hand before his wrist was gripped by Damian, gaining his attention. The two of them started their running start, leaping up and clambering up loose brick and window ledges until they had reached the rooftops, and had begun their marathon across the city.

Jason watched them leave, turning his attention back to the building behind him. He had some work to do. Maybe… Maybe he would show up at the Batcave. Just this once, he would actually announce himself as a guest. Just this once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Harcourt Holmes.
> 
> PS. I would like to apologise for how long this took for me to publish. I was struggling to write an action oriented story, and then tragedy struck when my computer decided to either update or reset. I have no idea which, I'm not that tech savvy. Either way, 'Chapter 2: Search and Rescue' and the first official chapter for 'Meet the Prompt Book' were set back extra time, as I lost about half of the work. I did my best to recover, and I hope you all enjoy it! I hope to get my first official chapter out for 'Meet the Prompt Book' soon, as well as the third official chapter for this one, 'Chapter 3: Broken Toys'. Sorry again for the time it took, and I wish you all well!


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